


the 4 a.m. moon will turn a blind eye to the lies we tell ourselves

by bulut



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Snapshots, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26191792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulut/pseuds/bulut
Summary: He welcomes hurt like a second heart.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 12
Kudos: 53





	the 4 a.m. moon will turn a blind eye to the lies we tell ourselves

On September 28th, Kei returns home.

Tobio is still getting over the end of his professional career. Retirement due to age is much harder to swallow than an injury. It's the first time in a long while he’s lost control of his life.

Thirty-four, and he has in his hands a life sucked clean of its meaning. He can write sports, criticise plays, coach, build a team, but he can't play, and that's the end of the story.

Thirty-four, and Kei is in his prime, or close to it. This thing they've had since Tobio returned home a year ago, Tokyo now much too young and bustling for his heart that feels beyond its years, beat leaning on a walking stick, this thing is but a means of entertainment for Kei, who was smart enough to plan ahead, plans to sustain a lifetime. Tobio only had volleyball, and now he has nothing.

September 28th, in their bedroom in the dark, Tobio contemplates.

Kei was with another man the night before.

~

They didn’t talk about it.

Kei said, “We’re not boyfriends,” and that was it. Never mind that they share a bedroom, the bed when Kei’s home, split rent, split the bills, split cleaning. Whatever grows in Tobio’s heart for assholes who can’t give him the time of day, who only remember when they’re in need of an effortless lay, it grows out of its own. It eats itself to stay alive. The water is salty. It’s sprung from the seed Tobio, himself, alone, with his own hands, planted.

Kei may say “I’m home,” when he comes back, but this is not home for him, Tobio knows.

Out of leftover polite upbringing, they eat together. Afterwards is mostly drinking a glass or two for Kei as Tobio reads up on tactics and the newest products, steering clear of alcohol as if he still has an athlete’s body to take care of. They share a Netflix and a Spotify membership, they share a living room, they share a bed, and they’re oceans apart. The stylish magazine stacks are such a Kei detail, but the magazines are for Tobio. The kitchen table is cluttered in the way only an idiot like Tobio would allow, wording courtesy of Kei, but the clutter is Kei’s monthly work shift, weekly training regime, half-eaten takeout container, tangled headphone cord.

The washing machine is alone in the wider section of the hallway, the bathroom too small to fit it in. Tobio is alone, a ghost in the hallway, Kei’s heart too full to fit himself in.

~

“I’m staying over at Kuroo-san’s,” Kei says over his shoulder, slipping on his sneakers.

Kuroo-san’s is where he is when he’s not in their shared apartment. Look at Tobio losing to some old high school rival he should have beaten, left in the dust of his volleyball shoes, two decades ago. Watch him, the grand Olympic athlete, alone on his side of the court, five teammates with their back to him. To Miyagi, where only Kei has remained, watch a fallen leaf like him get swept back to his tree by the winter winds.

He needs to ask a question. He has a modelling gig. He’d better move to a bigger city if he doesn’t want to lose hours on trains like this.

 _Can we talk when you get home?_ he types. When his phone loses service, he backspaces to erase the drafted message.

~

“I could move out,” he tells the living room air, one night when they’re both home.

“Where does this come from?”

He can’t tell. He’s afraid, he’s so afraid, he’s so so so afraid, and now tears fill his eyes, on the cusp of falling, because he knows the cold shoulder that’s his share, the icy voice he’ll get for spoiling the comfort of this fine night for Kei. He knows what he’ll get for attempting to tip the status quo, he’s known since high school when one word from him resulted in five years without a word between the two of them.

“What’s the point of me being here if it’s torture for the both of us?” he asks into his pillow the next night; eighty square metres of this place and he’s the only inhabitant.

~

Kuroo Tetsurou is tall, dark and handsome, three items checked off the list construing the type of man seemingly everyone is attracted to.

When he says, “We need to talk about Kei,” Tobio only feels resentment. Yes, you can have him, you already have him, I’ve never had any say in this, I’m no one you need to show off to, I’m no one.

“He used to cry over you, but he doesn’t even do that anymore.”

Tobio is startled.

“What did I do to him?”

“Made him fall in love with you, what else, Kageyama-kun?”

…

“What?”

“The ice king is in love with the solitary king, and they’re not communicating,” Kuroo deigns to clarify. “Kei’s always staying over at my place because he can’t bear the silence of this house, or something like that. What are you doing here when you’re alone, exactly?”

Tobio doesn’t have an answer for that, and that’s the heart of the problem.

“Look, you’re thirty-four, halfway there, youth is slipping out of your hands, do something, I don’t know what but do something before Kei convinces himself that you hate him,” Kuroo says in exasperation. “It’ll be very difficult with Kei, I’ll give you that. But if you want the same thing he wants, you have to speak up.”

“If I do anything, he’ll run away,” Tobio manages.

Kuroo’s face scrunches in an emotion similar to sadness. “Where does he even have to run?”

~

“I could move out.”

“What for? What’s with this new fascination?”

“It seems we can’t share this space.” Tobio takes a deep breath before he continues. “I came and disrupted your routine, forced you to make room for me when you probably didn’t ever want to see me again. I’m sorry, and I don’t know a way to make up for it but I can at least correct a mistake.”

Kei turns away from him.

“Yes. Do that. Move out,” he voices in disinterest.

Tobio doesn’t know which of their faces he wants to slap.

~

Miyagi isn’t big enough to avoid old heartbreaks forever.

It’s their high school reunion and none of the other members of the volleyball club in their year are here. Big lives they live, out there. The once inseparable group is scattered across the globe.

He finds Kei in the old clubroom, clutching the handle of the broken-and-taped broom. His breath catches, and it seems Kei’s catches, too.

“Tobio,” he says, never once stumbling over the syllables of a less familiar way of addressing, not hesitating to choose between a myriad different aliases Tobio’s adopted throughout his existence, the name fresh and polished in his mouth like he’s been practicing saying it, every day since they last saw each other.

They’re obstinate, they’re proud, they’re the biggest, most miserable dumbasses Tobio’s ever known. The honey of Kei’s eyes is an ache in his bones.

“Kei,” he replies, and it’s both an end and a brand new start for a heartache. Even when you’re together, even when you’re apart, does the yearning for a beloved ever go away?

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading.


End file.
